Fez
by The Idiots
Summary: Fred and George's new business--and a fez. Fixed and re-uploaded. Better than ever.


Disclaimer: We don't own any of these people. J K Rowling holds exclusive rights to them, we just like to play.

Summary: Fred and George's new business—and a fez. 

Warning: You have to have an open mind to read this. Preferably a sense of humor, but if you don't have one of those, I know of some really nice graveyards. Flamers welcome. You guys are fun to laugh at.

Chapter One: The Fez

George Weasley was poised almost studiously over "The Book", a large binder filled with all of their receipts and financial data, feeling like pulling out all of his burnished red hair on the almost-gloomy afternoon of May 19th. He and his twin, Fred, had managed to make the accounts work themselves by magic, but several of their experiments had caused something in The Book to go wrong, so he was trying to refigure the expense of the newly bought store in Hogsmeade. The two had hit an extreme amount of luck when Zonko's Joke Shop, the reigning Joke Shop of their youth, had gone out of business, leaving behind a lot of its stock. What had been a little around-the-corner shop had turned out to be quite a successful business.

"The Delayed Dung Bombs are selling well!" George turned as a voice that would to anyone else sound eerily familiar to his own bounced into the room. Making sure he marked his place in The Book with one trailing finger, George lifted his head to smile at his beaming mirror image. The voice was attached to a grinning freckled face, half-hidden under an enormous bowler hat, which flopped lazily around as the giddy twenty-year old breezed in. Fred Weasley was carrying a large cardboard package, stamped in sketched inky letters on the side with three bright green "W's." 

"Weird, huh? Our favorite in the past, updated for the future and keeping us happy again! Hah!"

"I liked the Mute-Mouth M&M's, personally," George answered, peering under Fred's bowler hat. "Great thing that Dad got us that bag from the Muggle shop, eh? Opened up a whole new line of business."

"Line of business? Who cares about business?" Fred smirked. "The look on Percy's face when he realized that he couldn't tell us all about his report on the regulation fluffiness of quill pens was priceless!" He swept off his hat and plopped down on a suede chair next to George's cluttered desk, leaning over to peer at the Book as he landed. "Any luck so far?"

"About as much as we had with those annoying Screeching Sandies!" Both winced as they remembered the screaming cookies that couldn't even be contained by the bags. Some trash dump was now NOT pleased to hear screeching and screaming all day long. George doubted that forty feet of junk and trash could cover up that wretched noise.

Fred opened his mouth to say something when a bright blue light located next to the enchanted door flashed briefly, warning of customers. They exchanged shrugs. 

"The next Hogsmeade weekend is two weeks from now…that's odd," George remarked, tapping his desk with his wand so the papers would actually appear to be stacked. He sent a stern look to the Jumping Jujubes, which were having a field day with the Beetle Birthday Cards, stomping all of the little bugs as they scuttled about on their rack. The minute that the reader had closed the card, it turned into a beetle. They were hot sellers.

The large door that flashed off several colors within minutes crept open and a small brunette head poked in. "Are you…Fred and George Weasley?"

"No, we're the clones," Fred said sincerely. He blinked innocently at the kid, who blinked back several times.

The kid seemed to accept that as a final answer and stepped in. "I'm Dennis," he remarked proudly. He looked maybe twelve, and he had mousy-brown hair that seemed quite unkempt. Fred looked eager to offer him a Honeycomb Comb just to scare the kid. The sensation of combing your hair and suddenly finding honey dripping off of your head was quite…freaky.

"'Scuse me, but d'you guys maybe have… some Spitting Erasers?" the boy asked, eyes shining as he voiced his prospect.

"And what," Fred asked, grinning wickedly, "would you want with Spitting Erasers?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing--" the young man faltered, looking down at the floor. Over his mouse-brown head, George smiled at his twin and hopped off to the back of the shop, presumably with the intention of retrieving a box of the product. 

Meanwhile, Fred continued to stare down at the boy with a false look of responsibility. "You're not planning to use these on any of your friends, are you?" Fred asked, looking severe. The kid cowered.

"W-w-well, sir, I--"

Fred suddenly brightened and gave him a huge grin. "Because if you are, I expect pictures!" He gestured to the bare walls of the shop. "Need some decoration in here, and if we happen to advertise ourselves at the same time…" he trailed off. "I remember your brother," he said, a fond tone in his voice. "He was always photographing the Quidditch matches. Never figured he'd finally put that to use and work for the Prophet. Hey, you can start, too!" He exclaimed, catching George's eye as he returned to the main room with some Spitting Erasers in a padded box. He could hear them fussing around inside, clamoring to escape. 

Taking the box from his brother, he handed it to the boy, who bent under the weight but broke into a smile. Quickly stuffing some gold into Fred's hand, Dennis, bow-legged, waddled happily back out of the shop. "Don't forget those pictures!"

Fred watched him go. "Doesn't it just give you a warm, fuzzy feeling inside every time you know you've helped someone pull a great prank?"

George sniffed, trying to count the gold over his brother's shoulder. "Yah, yah, warm and fuzzy. We make anything?"

Fred dropped the gold into the box that magically counted every Knut effortlessly and shrugged at the amount returned. "Zonko's at Diagon Alley offered us a franchise…should we take it? They'll go out of business if we don't."

"That would ruin our name, wouldn't ya think? Fred and George Weasley franchise something? That's just…" George stopped.

"Wrong," Fred finished. He returned to the back room, sweeping his bowler cap off of the "neat" desk and pulling off his dinner jacket to replace it with a welder's mask and heavy apron. "Off to work on those Tap-dancing Sugar Clamps. Once those are done, we'll have the whole tea set." 

"And to think it all started with a single biting teacup," George remarked, thumbing back to his place in the Book. A few minutes in which George varied between wanting to pull his hair out and wanting to strangle something out of frustration passed before a fez was dropped in front of George. "What the -- !"

"What did Moody always tell you, George? CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" The voice that snapped this was strangely familiar, even though George hadn't heard it in a few months. George, slightly startled, managed to beam up into the tanned face of the boy that was his younger brother's best friend before glancing furtively back down at the fez.

"Somehow, Harry, I never pictured you wearing a fez," George remarked, grinning. 

Harry Potter, famous before he could speak, stood calmly in front of the desk, dressed in Muggle clothing and close to laughter. The fez sat there innocently. "S'not mine. It's Percy's. I warned him not to talk about the standard materials used in making size 18 robes and the political consequences of having thousands of slaving silk worms. The Chinese ministry is NOT pleased," Harry shrugged, grinning. "He lost more than his fez, let me tell you that." From his pocket, he pulled a large silvery object.

"Whazzat?" Fred asked, coming in to grin at Harry in welcome. He stopped, looked at the fez, looked at Harry, looked back at the fez, and his mouth dropped open.

"Well, of course, the key to his collection of fezzes. But enough with the fez for now. I came in to ask a favor," Harry said almost lazily, eyeing the Singing Sword Pops sitting in the corner warily. 

"If it comes to the joke world, we're your men," Fred said, poking the fez uneasily. He and George exchanged shrugs.

"A couple days back, we met up with Malfoy and the old Slytherins. Derrick and Bole and Flint and all those people. Well, we were exchanging the usual array of insults when Ron came out of nowhere and challenged them to a battle of…jokes." Harry paused here, looking slightly embarrassed. "They've got Dervish and Banges backing them up -- Marcus Flint owns that now -- and we need a joke shop to sponsor us." He had the repeat the last part, for both George and Fred were observing the fez.

"You want us," George paused to gesture at Fred and himself, eyes still on the fez, "to sponsor you in a joke war?"

"Well…actually, we wanted Zonko's, but since they went out of business…Oh, shaddup, Fred, I'm kidding!" Harry exclaimed, his look incredulous at the hurt that mirrored from Fred's face to George's. Neither of them held the look for long, for they quickly reverted to watching the fez. "So, do you wanna do this?"

"Harry, you're an Auror now, aren't you? Don't you have anything better to do? Fight fezzes? Search down Dark Lords?" They looked at the fez. "What happened to Voldemort?" They looked at the fez. "Aren't you supposed to be enemies?" They looked at the fez.

"He died. Something about a fez choking him…I don't know the details. We hold Joke Wars in our time…doesn't matter if it's free or not. Everybody's already ready, but we need some pranks and such as supplies. Lupin and Sirius are leading the team. What do you say?"

"I say nice fez."

"Great!" Harry checked his strange watch. Two hands rotated over a large, special-edition silver fez. "Dang…they've had another attempted prison break…While I've got the fez, do you think you could manage to put a prank on it or something? Percy sure needs some…jokes pulled on him. He's resuming "bighead boy" mode."

With that, Harry Apparated out, dropping yet another fez, this one a bright purply orange.

George looked at Fred, who was beaming. "Whoa, our first real big gig," he said. "Figures that it would be Harry and company. Still… this could be our big break. Imagine--being endorsed by Harry Potter and the fez!"

Fred, however, had a faraway look on his face. George, puzzled, waved a hand in front of his brother's nose and, recognizing creativity when he saw it, asked suspiciously, "What? We aren't going to…hurt…the fez, are we?"

"Oh, nothing," Fred replied. "I was just thinking… what do you think of 'Flatulent Fezzes?"

Chapter 2: The Fez

The back room was already filled with boxes--Filibuster Fireworks, Exploding Snaps, Biting Tea Cups, Invisible Ink--names spray-painted across the musty cardboard, followed shortly thereafter with the insignia of "WWW." The tiny storage area was full to the brim, and consequently, its contents were beginning to spill out into the main store. This was no problem for the Weasleys, however; in fact, the businessman brothers were quite pleased with the way their stocking was coming out. Fezzes lay scattered about the place, several sporting burn marks among other weird disfigurements.

"Make sure we have enough Ton-Tongue Toffee," George called from behind a particularly large box of Singing Snuff. He paused to look at a fez. "They love that."

"Whatever," Fred's muffled voice filtered back through from the head of the shop. "Just completing a few transactions--that'll be two Galleons, six Sickles, and five Knuts, please." George could hear the tiny chink of money, and then: "Come again to Weazley's Wizard Wheezes!" There was a loud bustling, accompanied by more than a few profanities, and a few moments later Fred's head, complete with fez, appeared over a pile of boxes marked "rejects." 

"These things are selling like nuts!" he remarked to his brother, eyeing the fez on his head. "We have to send Percy one; after all, it was really him that allowed us to develop it…"

"Yeah," George called back, slashing the prices on a few leftover packages of Screaming Sandies, "I'm sure he'd really love to go around the Ministry wearing a farting fez all day." 

"He probably wouldn't notice that the fez is farting." He looked at his fez lovingly again.

"Oh, come on! How can you not notice when you have a farting fez on your head?" George asked, avoiding malicious squirts from the exploding quills. He wiped ink off of his face and sighed at the annoying product.

"It's PERCY we're talking about here!" Fred tapped his own fez, which, on command, farted loudly. 

"Too true," George remarked mournfully. He suddenly brightened, grinning suddenly. "New idea! Belching Bowlers!" Both paused to look lovingly at the fez.

"We'll have a new line of hats!" Fred looked excited. "And the wonderful fezzes!"

"And for zose French, we'll have Belching Berets!" George continued in a horrible French accent. "Stinky snow caps!" He rambled off ideas for all the hats he could think of, Fred's face growing more and more eager with every word. Suddenly, discounting stock was abandoned as they headed into the explosion room, clutching fezzes happily.

Chapter Three: The Fez

"They're…so…so…beautiful!" Fred sobbed onto George's shoulder as they examined their line of burping or farting hats. The fez was on the center rack, the bowler and beret hats just below it. Fred had switched his fez for his newly enhanced bowler, which they had enchanted burp AND fart. The hats would all have that extra benefit soon, but neither felt up to doing that yet.

"What is this sudden obsession with fezzes?" a voice asked from behind them.

"Obsession?" George asked, whirling. He craned his neck to glance at the fez before striding up to Ron, standing behind George's desk. "Not quite obsession…They're only seven sickles a fez!"

Ron eyed the fez. "No thanks," he said. "I would like a green beret, though." He looked at the fez. "No, I think I'd like a bowler." He glanced again at the fez. "Or…or…a top hat." His eyes traveled to the fez. "Or one of those."

"The fez it is!" George paused to caress the fez before handing it grudgingly over to Ron.

Ron looked at the fez. His face lit with bliss. 

"Thanks, guys!" he said. "So--have you got anything going on our joke war yet?" he asked George, who was talking quietly to his fez.

"It's okay, fezzie," he said, "I know your friend is leaving, it'll be okay--what? Oh, yeah, the joke war. Um… we have fezzes." 

"That's good," answered Ron, "but have you got anything else?" He paused to look at George's fez. "That's a nice fez," he said. "Um, oh yah, the joke war?"

"Sure, sure," George said, eyeing his fez, "we've got all the stuff you need right in the back. Just take up your fe--dump truck and shlep it to the battle field."

"Great!" cried Ron, and he pumped George's hand enthusiastically. When he came off, he had George's fez, too. Without pausing to say goodbye, he ran right out of the store. George blinked a few seconds, looked around, blinked again. Then he screamed.

"FEZZIE-POO!!!!!!!!!"

Chapter Four: The Fez

"Why," Hermione stopped, stressing the word, "are we all wearing fezzes?"

Nobody answered, but there was a lot of glancing at the fezzes. They were at their base for the joke war and it hadn't started yet. Malfoy's team were all wearing blue shirts, but Sirius's and Lupin's team were all wearing fezzes.

Colin Creevey shrugged and paused to caress his fez lovingly. It was sparkled with blue and orange and purple. "Okay, the dung bombs have been planted," he said, tearing his eyes away from the fez.

Sirius stood at the front of the ranks, Lupin and Moody behind him with their battlements and fezzes plotted. Moody looked absolutely ridiculous in a red, white, and blue fez, Lupin looked like he was having almost overwhelming pleasure as he saw the sea of fezzes before him, and Sirius was planning where to drop the fake wands. 

On the other side of the field, Malfoy looked puzzled. "Why are they all wearing fezzes?" he asked. He paused. "Yet…they are…strangely attractive, you know…" His eyes grew glassy. Crabbe and Goyle looked at the fezzes. Derrick and Bole looked at the fezzes. Flint looked at the fezzes.

The joke war started with a loud, unanimous fart from the fezzes.

Malfoy threw a dungbomb and looked at the fez. Harry countered with an Exploding Snap and looked at the fez. Lupin hurled some Screaming Sandies and looked at the fez. Crabbe responded with a blow by throwing Invisible Ink and looked at the fez.

Moody took his fake eye out and put it inside a fez. "Nice new comfy home for you, my sweet," he said, looking at the fez. But then--he looked at another fez! 

"Constant vigilance," he reminded himself, and made sure to survey ALL the fezzes.

Sirius batted Goyle over the head with a rubber chicken and looked at the fez. It whacked Goyle's fez off (he'd stolen it from Crabbe, who'd stolen it from Malfoy, who'd bought one on the black market a few seconds earlier) and Goyle began to scream, "Rogue fez! Rogue fez!"

Instantly there was a rush as everyone sought to make the rogue fez his/her own. Dennis fished for the fez in a pile of clustered bodies all covered in fezzes and Screaming Suzy's "This Really Hurts A Lot When You Pour It On A Bunch Of Folks Wearing Fezzes" Special Sauce. Suddenly, Sirius grabbed the fez and held it hostage.

"Unless you post-Slytherins don't give up this joke war, I will HURT THIS FEZ!!!!!" He held up the fez, making sure to reassure it that it would be okay. There was instant silence, and suddenly the battlefield cleared. Everyone looked at the fez. 

"Okay, we make peace. Can we observe the fez now?" Malfoy begged, eyes running hungrily over the fez.

"Sure," Sirius said and looked at the fez. He kissed it. "Goodbye my little one, it is time for you to find a new home now." He placed the fez on Malfoy's head.

"Ooooh," the crowd said. "Aaahhh," the crowd said and looked at the fez.

And everyone looked at the fez.

THE FEZ--I MEAN, END. 

  
OOOO  
OOOOOO

OOWWWOO  
OOOOOOOOOOO

Congratulations! You've won your very own text fez!


End file.
